


i only have eyes for you (and you)

by vminprnt



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Boys Kissing, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Making Out, Ravenclaw! Seonghwa, Ravenclaw! Yeosang, Slytherin! Woosan, and i live by that, but check the notes just in case, hp knowledge not needed to read, yeosang is woosan's baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vminprnt/pseuds/vminprnt
Summary: “Get out of here,” he hissed, and the other boys cleared out quickly. Wooyoung blinked. He knew how this would go - San wanted him to himself, to make fun of, to toy with. He closed his eyes, waiting for words that never came.When Wooyoung opened his eyes again, San was on his knees, gathering his books up as he chewed on his lip. Wooyoung blinked in disbelief. “What are you doing?” He whispered.San blinked back. “Giving you your books, obviously.”
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 12
Kudos: 293





	i only have eyes for you (and you)

**Author's Note:**

> the room of requirement - a room that only appears to those who need it, takes the form of whatever a person needs the most
> 
> (the two gryffindors who hang out with yeosang and seonghwa are hongjoong and jongho, but i never really mention it in the story. sorry!)

Wooyoung has a bit of a reputation.

The evening before he left for his first year, his mother had kissed him on the cheek and made him promise to be good. To keep out of trouble; to focus on school and learn diligently. His father promised they would see each other again by Christmas, asked him to study hard. Being born into a muggle family was hard - Wooyoung didn’t know what to expect or how to prepare himself. 

He knows now that nothing could have prepared him for Choi San. Wooyoung thinks that maybe, without San, he would have listened to his parents. Would have been complacent.

He and San meet their very first year. Being born from two Muggles made things noticeably harder, especially considering his placement in Slytherin. They valued the quality of blood, here, Wooyoung slowly learned. He also learned the word _mudblood_ quite fast. Apparently, not even being sorted into Slytherin could save him from his bullies from the very same house. 

It was one day, after being shoved to the ground, his worn, second hand books scattered across the grass, that Wooyoung saw Choi San. 

Wooyoung crawled up onto his elbows, eyes searching upwards. “Mudblood,” one of the boys spat at him, voice mocking. Wooyoung said nothing but began to gather his books. “What, you’re too good to talk to us?” Asked another.

He truthfully just wanted to get to his next class, but he didn’t deem them a response. A boot kicked into his back, slamming him back into the ground before he could reach his books. Wooyoung gasped, more surprised than hurt, but the boys surrounding him suddenly cried out. He struggled to glance up, but when he did, his blood turned to ice.

If there was one person known by all the first years, it was Choi San. A completely pure blooded wizard, a steadily increasing rarity these days. Striking, despite the boyish round of his face. And there he was, eyes staring down at Wooyoung, hands extended to push the bullies aside. San’s head snapped to the leader of the group, a certain fire in his eyes. 

“Get out of here,” he hissed, and the other boys cleared out quickly. Wooyoung blinked. He knew how this would go - San wanted him to himself, to make fun of, to toy with. He closed his eyes, waiting for words that never came. 

When Wooyoung opened his eyes again, San was on his knees, gathering his books up as he chewed on his lip. Wooyoung blinked in disbelief. “What are you doing?” He whispered.

San blinked back. “Giving you your books, obviously.” 

He rose with the books in hand, holding out the other for Wooyoung. He stared for a second at the extended hand, as if expecting a trick. After a few seconds of careful thought, Wooyoung took the outreached hand warily. San didn’t comment, just pulled him up. He gently handed Wooyoung the books, a small smile on his face. 

“I hate those guys,” San whispered conspiratorially, like he was telling Wooyoung a grand secret. Wooyoung found himself smiling despite himself. They ended up walking to his next class together, and by the next day, they were attached at the hip.

(A week later, Wooyoung asked San why. San sighed from where he was sitting in the common rooms, homework spilled across the table.

“I like jokes and pranks, but I hate bullies.”)

Associating himself with San definitely led Wooyoung to this reputation he had acquired. But by now, his sixth year, he’s fully embraced his position as San’s self proclaimed soulmate, other half, and partner in crime. 

San has a penchant for trouble. He likes the rush of pranks, of messing with people, of barely escaping the professors and subsequently, punishment. In their six years of troublemaking, they’ve only been caught once. And that was a fluke if Wooyoung had ever seen one, a stupid third year mistake. He’s sure the teachers know it’s them, anyways - they just can’t seem to catch them. 

Their discovery of the fabled Room of Requirement, a safe haven only they had knowledge of or the means to enter, certainly aided the two in their mischief. 

Wooyoung ended up liking the pranks just as much as San. They were harmless, in the end, and just childish fun. Changing a teacher's hair color, charming Wooyoung’s old first year bullies into making fools of themselves, messing with their opponents before a quidditch match. 

Harmless fun, sure, but they became infamous around the school - they have other friends, but Wooyoung and San are inseparable to a fault. They have years of history shared between each other, jokes and secrets only the other can understand. It was how it had always been, for them. Partners in everything - quidditch, potion-making, mischief. People knew better than to try to interject themselves into their bubble of their own making. 

It’s not until a chilly winter night during Wooyoung’s six year that it all changes. 

He and San are sneaking across the castle, adrenaline racing through Wooyoung’s veins as a professor chases after them. The professor hasn’t seen their faces yet, so there’s still hope for them to get away, but they had made a rookie mistake and strayed too far from the Room or Requirement. San pulls Wooyoung with him, grip tight. 

They had only been caught once in their whole career here - Wooyoung has no desire to add to that tally, so he wills his feet to move even faster. The teacher is hot on their heels, and he’s beginning to realize how hopeless it is; they’re still too far from safety. They’ll get caught far before they can reach it. Wooyoung is lamenting their eventual punishment when a voice hisses at them from the dark. 

“Hey,” it calls, deep. They warily turn. 

A painting peels back from the wall, an obvious entrance. Wooyoung and San glance around each other as the door opens, revealing a shadowy figure that’s gesturing for them to come in. They share a look, hesitating only for a moment before jumping inside. Wooyoung presses his ear to the door the second it slides shut, concealing them perfectly. He hears a grunt of frustration from outside before heavy footsteps fade into the distance. 

Wooyoung turns around. “Hey,” he nudges San. “This is the Ravenclaw common room.”

The overwhelming amount of blue gives it away easily. But Wooyoung doesn’t know a single Ravenclaw who would help them get out of trouble, so his eyes find the figure from before. And he immediately gasps.

“You’re the Ravenclaw quidditch team captain,” he says, voice accusing. Ravenclaw had ended up beating Slytherin this year, Wooyoung bitterly recalls. He had been playing on that field, cursing the intelligence of the very same boy that stood before them in the slowly dying light of the fireplace, expression annoyingly blank.

“Yes,” the boy replies airily. “That’s me.”

Wooyoung scoffs. “Why’d you help us?”

The boy hums, heading for the couch by the fireplace, gesturing for them to follow. “No reason, really,” he replies. “It seemed fun in the moment.”

Wooyoung watches him sit on the armrest of the love seat. “Not so fun now?”

San tilts his head from beside him. “You’re… what’s your name, again? Yo… young… Yeo?”

“Yeosang,” the boy nods his head, expression still level. Wooyoung stares incredulously. Yeosang raises an eyebrow, once again gesturing for them to sit. “It’s gonna be a while,” he explains. He looks back at the winding staircase behind his head. “The others are asleep, so it’s just me. It’s probably better that way. They would tell someone.” 

Wooyoung reluctantly sits, San beside him. Their thighs press together. “And why are you up? It’s late.” 

Yeosang tilts his head towards the table before them. Papers are spread out across it, half finished, ink still drying. “I was doing homework.”

San eyes the clock on the wall. “At three in the morning?” 

“Yes,” Yeosang huffs. “You guys wouldn’t know anything about doing homework, anyways,” he  
says, eyes fixed on the dying embers of the fire. Wooyoung bristles. 

“Hey-“ he starts, but San shakes his head. “Thank you,” he says to Yeosang. “For saving us, I mean.” 

“Hm,” Yeosang says absently. “I did you guys a favor, so I’d like one in return.” 

Wooyoung grinds his teeth at the nerve of this asshole. But San places a hand on his thigh, simultaneously calming him down and riling him up. He can’t shake it off, or San will question it. Wooyoung struggles to beat away the flush that threatens to rise in his ears and cheeks. 

If Yeosang notices, he says nothing. San clears his throat. “Do… do you have anything in mind, then?”

“Yes, actually,” Yeosang says, his face visibly brightening. Wooyoung leans forward, curious as to what he could want from them. 

“I want-“ he cuts himself off with a mumbled curse, fumbling for the wand on the desk. “What,” Wooyoung hisses. 

Yeosang fixes them with a piercing stare. “Quiet,” he warns them, mumbling words under his breath as he waves his wand, placing a finger over his lips. San’s grip on him tightens.

The other boy throws his wand down and picks up a quill and a book, immersing himself in it as footsteps echo down the stairs and into the room. After a few more moments, a boy enters, expression stern. 

“Yeosang,” he groans, tone exasperated. “Come on, it's late. You can’t do this every night.”

“It’s okay, Seonghwa,” Yeosang replies, nose still in the book. “I was gonna come up soon, anyways.”

The boy, Seonghwa, drags his eyes over the common room, as though he can sense something is amiss. But he skips right over San and Wooyoung like they’re not even there. They glance at each other in confusion. 

“Okay,” he says. “As long as you’re up soon.” 

Yeosang hums. “I’ll be right up, hyung.” 

They wait for a few moments with bated breaths, frozen where they sit until Yeosang scrambles for his wand and mutters under his breath again, waving his wand. Wooyoung blinks. 

“What was that,” he whispers. Yeosang leans against the back of the loveseat, sinking into the cushions with a sigh of relief. “An invisibility charm,” he replies easily. “It would have been bad if Seonghwa found out I helped you two.” 

“An invisibility charm?” San questions. “How do you even know that?”

It was certainly not anything on their curriculum. But maybe Ravenclaws were different. Yeosang smiles for the first time that night. “I read.”

Wooyoung isn’t sure whether to be offended at the tone or impressed at the other boy’s knowledge - he guesses his face is a strange combination of the two, because Yeosang giggles into his hand. It shouldn’t be cute. It _isn’t._

He and San meet each other’s eyes, lips wide. Neither of them are sure what to make of Yeosang - he’s certainly not the typical Ravenclaw. Any other Ravenclaw would have snitched by now, or berated them for their behavior. Yeosang is doing neither, just staring at them with the slightest hint of amusement. San just shrugs after a moment.

“Okay,” Yeosang says. “The favor.”

Wooyoung swivels around to face him. Yeosang stares back impassively. “I want in.”

San furrows his brows beside him. “What?”

Yeosang smiles again, a small, almost indiscernible thing. “Your… pranks, or whatever. I want in.”

Wooyoung narrows his eyes and glances at San. The other seems unsure of what to say, so he starts. “Why would you _want_ to help us? You’re one of the top students at this school. Why would you jeopardize that?” 

The words sit heavy in the air for a few moments. Then Yeosang stands. “I don’t have to explain myself. I just want to cash in on my favor that you owe me.”

He grits his teeth, standing up so he’s level with Yeosang. “You-”

San tugs on his sleeve and he looks down. He’s biting the inside of his cheek in thought, shaking his head at Wooyoung. “Let’s just see what happens, okay?” Wooyoung stares incredulously. “I don’t trust this,” he hisses back. “What if he like, sets us up?”

San looks at Yeosang, who’s watching their argument silently. “I don’t think he’s lying,” he determines after a few seconds, and stands with the rest of them. 

“Okay,” Yeosang claps his hands together. “You guys should be fine by now, right?” He checks the clock. “It’s late, anyway. I need to sleep.” And so he tugs on their sleeves gently, guiding them to the entrance of the common room. San and Wooyoung allow themselves to be pulled along, sharing a long glance, a silent conversation. After a moment, they nod at each other. 

After all these years, Wooyoung trusts San like he trusts himself. If San thinks that Yeosang genuinely wants to help them - well, he’ll trust that. Yeosang opens the door, peering out both ways to check for danger, and nods his head at them. They step out hesitantly, turning back to look at Yeosang, who returns to the shadow he was before, backlighted by the dying firelight.

He smiles at them. “Be careful.”

The door closes, the painting falling back with it, until it looks like a normal hallway, until the entrance is no longer noticeable. San and Wooyoung glance at each other, confusion painted across their twin expressions, but they steal across the hallway for the Slytherin common room. 

And so, through the smallest of miracles, two became three.

…

Wooyoung almost forgets about that night.

At first, they wait for a sign from Yeosang. They hardly see him, anyways, so it’s difficult to find him and talk. They catch his eye, sometimes, at dinner, or in the rush of changing classes. It’s never the right time or place, and he’s always flanked by that same Ravenclaw they had seen in the common room and two Gryffindors. Before, he had faded into the crowd, but now Wooyoung’s eyes search for him. 

And so they begin to forget, little by little, the favor they owe. Life continues, and Wooyoung has to focus on school far more than he had in the past. San is just as preoccupied as him, perhaps even more so, as he juggles his schoolwork and captaining Slytherin’s quidditch team. They return to their previous mischief, even if it’s just sneaking out to stargaze some nights. It still feels good to break a few rules.

Yeosang makes no attempt to contact them, so Wooyoung begins to think he’s forgotten all about it. He’s not sure why being forgotten leaves such a bitter taste in his mouth. He _shouldn’t_ care. 

Weeks pass, and the cool winter nights slowly warm. It’s one afternoon, as they’re returning from quidditch practice, that it happens. San and Wooyoung come as a package deal, and due to their reputation around the school, they’re rarely approached by people. They have distant friends and acquaintances, but even those are few in number. So, their surprise at seeing someone waving at them from the bleachers is palpable. 

San meets his eyes - they still can’t see who it is, but Wooyoung is beginning to have a vague idea of who it could be. The person leaps down from the bleachers to meet them, the blurred lines sharpening, Yeosang’s features coming into focus. His face reveals nothing, but his cheeks are kissed red by the cold. Wooyoung’s lips twitch upwards unconsciously.

“Hey,” San breaks the silence. 

“Hi,” Yeosang replies. A stricken expression flits across his face, like he’s in pain, but it disappears before Wooyoung can discern it completely. Silence falls again for a few seconds, and Wooyoung looks back at the field. The rest of their team are trying to hide their stares, but their eyes burn into him. He glances back at Yeosang.

“Want to go inside?”

He nods eagerly, turning towards the path to the castle. Wooyoung follows with San close behind. Yeosang’s shaking from where he’s swathed within his robes, so Wooyoung figures heading inside was the best course of action. Once they enter, Yeosang looks back at them curiously. 

“Where should we go?”

San nods at him. “Let’s go _there_.”

Wooyoung shakes his head. “No.”

A few seconds pass. San pouts his lip out, eyes wide. Wooyoung sighs and glances at Yeosang. He’s wearing an amused smile. 

“Okay,” he concedes. “But if we regret this, it’s on you.”

San smiles, that same blinding smile that always seems to wear Wooyoung down. Five years of friendship, and two years of feeling _more_ can do that. 

Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “Well…?”

Wooyoung huffs and takes the lead, grabbing both their wrists and leading them through the hallways. If people stare at them as they pass by, Wooyoung pays no mind. They must make quite the sight - one of the smartest wizards in the school, flanked by two of the most infamous sixth years on campus, all while Wooyoung and San are still dressed in their quidditch practice uniforms. He briefly thinks about stopping by the Slytherin common room to change, but he wouldn’t know how to bring Yeosang in without issues. 

So he heads for the Room of Requirement. Wooyoung has commited all these halls to memory, knows each turn like the back of his hand. Finding it is no problem for him, and they’ve reached it before even ten minutes have passed. He lets them go and the three of them stand at the entrance. 

Yeosang glances around. Then he eyes the way they’re staring at the wall, confusion coloring his features. “What are you guys doing?” He asks, suspicion in his voice. Wooyoung grins, and begins pacing back and forth, clearing his mind and thinking of what they need the most in that moment. After a few prolonged seconds of Yeosang staring incredulously, the wall before them begins to slide across the floor with a slight screech, revealing a simplistic room with chairs within. A fireplace sits within, crackling with carefully controlled flame, illuminating the room with flickering light. San steps in, Wooyoung not far behind. They glance back at Yeosang, whose mouth is opened wide in an o shape.

Wooyoung tilts his head at him, gesturing for him to follow. He hesitantly steps forward. San smiles. “This is-” he begins.

“The Room of Requirement,” Yeosang breathes out, childlike wonder in his voice. His eyes travel across the room as he walks, soaking in every detail he can, curiosity filling his features. It’s fairly bare, this time, but the chairs appear comfortable, and warmth spills forth from the fireplace. The room is perfect for what they need, as it always is.

San sinks into one of the chairs, sighing at the sensation. Wooyoung sits beside him. He waits for Yeosang to sit down, but it never happens - the other boy’s eyes are shining, hands outstretched and running along the walls, the chairs, the scattered books and random objects. “This is…” he says, but trails off. He never finishes the sentence, just smiles gently at the walls, looking back at them with barely concealed excitement. “How’d you guys even find it?”

Wooyoung sighs. “A very long story. One that we don’t really have time for.”

“Okay,” Yeosang replies, not offended in the slightest, and takes his seat by the fire facing them. 

“Well?” San asks from beside Wooyoung. Yeosang tilts his head. “Didn’t you have something to say, earlier?”

“Oh,” Yeosang flushes, “it wasn’t anything… important. I just wanted to tell you guys I’m ready to use the favor. I finally managed to get away from Seong- my friend for the first time in a while, and I didn’t have any homework tonight, so..” 

San smiles. Wooyoung shoots him a look. “Okay,” he says, “we were going to do something tomorrow night. Wanna come with us and see if you like it? If you do, you can do more.” Wooyoung snaps his head around. They hadn't discussed anything like that. He thought it was a one time thing only. San meets his eyes, steel behind his gaze. Wooyoung sighs and the tension in his body melts a bit. He forces a grin for Yeosang. 

Yeosang is hiding a smirk behind his hand, but doesn’t comment. “Tomorrow night, then. I’ll see you guys before, though?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says carefully as Yeosang stands. He shrugs at them apologetically. “My friends are going to wonder where I am, and I can’t use quidditch practice or homework as an excuse this time.”

“Okay,” San says, a wide grin on his face. “See you later, Yeosang.”

They both watch as the other boy leaves, his robes swishing across the floor almost hypnotically. The walls slide shut behind him, leaving no trace of his presence. San puts his hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder, and he turns to the boy. He groans at the expression on his face.

“No,” he says in despair.

“Yes,” San insists. “Look at him. We’re adopting him.”

Wooyoung puts his face in his hands. “He’s cute, but we’re not letting this happen, San. What if he tells a professor, or something?”

“I have a feeling he wouldn’t,” San pouts. “He obviously has some repressed shit going on there.”

“We’re not jeopardizing all of this over a _feeling_ ,” Wooyoung complains. But San pumps his fists in victory, hugging him tight. Wooyoung’s face does not flush. “Thank you, Woo.”

A few seconds pass, their arms still wrapped around each other. Then-

“...he is cute, isn’t he?”

“San.”

…

Wooyoung is walking through the halls, San glued to his side. They’re immersed in conversation, his eyes stuck on the way the other boy’s lips curl up. It’s a wonder San has never noticed.

His intense concentration almost stops him from hearing his name being called from the side of the hallway. San snaps his head towards the direction of the voice, and he’s quick to follow. Yeosang is walking up to them, sheepishly rubbing his hands together, a nervous habit. His friends stare from their usual spot by the window, confusion coloring their faces. Wooyoung would laugh, normally, but his eyes are glued on Yeosang. 

“I kind of forgot to ask when and where,” Yeosang whispers conspiratorially, “last night.” 

San giggles sweetly, a soft sound on Wooyoung’s ears. “Where should we meet?” He asks Wooyoung. He blinks. “Uh,” he begins eloquently, “astronomy tower? Midnight?”

“Sounds good,” Yeosang says. San hums. “Are you sure you can make it? Won’t your,” his eyes travel to the group by the window, “... friends notice you’re gone?” Yeosang smiles, a gentle, innocent thing, all pointed teeth. “You think I can’t sneak out? I don’t enjoy bragging, but I _am_ one of the top students here.”

Wooyoung resists grins back, despite himself. The more he talks to Yeosang, the more his preconceptions from before fade away to leave the boy before him. He _isn’t_ like any Ravenclaw they’ve met before - there’s bite to his wit, playfulness to accompany his knowledge. He likes to work, but he also likes to _play_. He’s an enigma, but also easy to read.

Yeosang hums and glances back. “I’m gonna go,” he lowers his voice, “see you tonight.”

They wave goodbye and slowly walk to their next class. They can hear voices echo down the hall from behind them, hushed whispers of, “You know _them_ , Yeosang?” Wooyoung and San smile at each other. As always, their reputation precedes them. 

They’re late to their next class. They don’t care.

…

When Yeosang scrambles up the steps of the astronomy tower, it’s five minutes past midnight.

His hair is still wet, pushed back across his forehead, his robes absent. It’s the most disheveled Wooyoung has seen him yet. It’s strangely endearing, as he pants and gasps for breath at the top of the steps, hands on his knees. “In a hurry?” Wooyoung teases. Yeosang huffs back at him, still struggling for air.

“Practice ran late today.”

San pats him on the back. “We can wait a few minutes.” 

By the time those minutes are up, Yeosang has mostly regained his breath. He stands straight, crosses his arms, narrows his eyes a bit. “So what are we doing?”

Wooyoung smiles, all teeth. “Nothing too big. It’s your first time, after all.”

Yeosang cocks an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”

“Your presence is more than enough fun,” San says, sickeningly sweet. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to scare you off.” He smiles at Wooyoung, lips dripping honey. In the skewered moonlight pouring in through the terraces, his hair is shockingly white, bright against the shadows. Wooyoung struggles to regain his thoughts. “Let’s go,” he says, instead of acknowledging that feeling that squeezes his heart, vice-like. 

They head downstairs together, traveling through the halls carefully. San and Wooyoung had memorized the schedule for hallway patrols by prefects a long time ago - now, they moved through the halls as easily as they breathed. Yeosang follows them easily, eyes scanning the walls for any signs of danger. He relaxes after a few moments. This is the hardest part, for Wooyoung - staying quiet until they reach a place they can speak. 

He and San had decided on something simple. They make their way to the Owlery, Yeosang gasping in recognition when he realizes their destination. He looks like he wants to ask questions, but he keeps his lips pressed into a tight line. Wooyoung smiles at his quiet determination. They enter the Owlery, and Yeosang keeps his chin tilted up, gazing at the hundreds of sleeping birds nestled into the rafters. Wooyoung feels bad for disturbing their rest, but he doubts many of the owls will even wake. San clears his throat to get Yeosang’s attention, who’s still looking up at the owls with… longing. Wooyoung doesn’t understand, can’t understand, but then Yeosang is looking at them again, face expressionless like he had never even felt anything in the first place. 

San leans in close to them. “You brought your wand, right?” 

Yeosang wordlessly nods, patting his pants pocket. San takes a slip of paper out from the side of his jacket, brandishing it with a flourish and bright smile. “Woo and I had to do some research for this one,” he whispers. “But this is the charm.” Yeosang carefully takes the paper, reading over it meticulously. 

“This is…” He narrows his eyes, looking between the two of them incredulously. “A charm that changes the color of animals?”

“Yep,” San says proudly. “Guess what we’re doing?”

Yeosang pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “This… wasn’t how I imagined this night going.” 

“Oh? And how did you imagine this going?” Wooyoung smirks. Yeosang splutters. “Do not make it weird.”

“What,” he shrugs easily. “Just asking.” Yeosang shakes his head, resigned. As they argue, San begins to murmur the charm under his breath, getting a feel for the words on his tongue. He squints down at the letters. Yeosang peers over his shoulder, hesitantly interjecting himself. “You need to place more emphasis on _this_ syllable,” he points down to the sheet of paper. Wooyoung is suddenly glad they somehow managed to recruit a Ravenclaw onto their little team. 

San tries again, and Yeosang shakes his head. “Draw the vowels out more,” he says, and gives them a demonstration. San and Wooyoung both try, this time, and he smiles when they get it right. “There,” he whispers, satisfied. Wooyoung pointedly looks anywhere but the curve of Yeosang’s lips, instead studying the owls above them. They draw their wands, holding them out in front of them. 

Yeosang bites his lip. “Are you sure this isn’t, like, animal abuse?”

“Nah,” Wooyoung says. “We checked. It’s completely pain free. The owls probably won’t even notice it.”

“Okay,” Yeosang says, his voice still tense. San wraps an arm around his shoulders, jostling him a bit. “Come on,” he murmurs low, “you wanna have fun, right? Don’t worry about things so much. Wooyoung and I never go too far.” Yeosang drops his shoulders. “Okay,” he says again, but this time it’s less hesitant. 

The three of them raise their wands together, staring down at the paper one last time and committing it to memory. Then, as one, the ancient words spill out from their lips into the open air. At first, it seems like nothing happens, and Wooyoung waits with bated breath, but then an owl above them _shifts._ It’s tawny feathers are dyed pink, color spreading across its body like a shockwave. They stare in awe as the other owls undergo the same process, a wide variety of colors filling the room like a living rainbow. Wooyoung stands in silence before turning to the other two. And then they _break,_ their laughs filling the empty space of the Owlery. 

Yeosang has a lovely laugh, Wooyoung notes in the back of his mind. Files the information away for later, makes sure that he will hear it more often. They don’t waste too much time, however, stealing away a few minutes later after ensuring the owls are pain-free and sleeping easily. They sneak through the halls, Wooyoung’s heart racing in that same familiar way it does every single time they do something like this. It’s the feeling of being _alive_ , of being free, even if all it is is a harmless prank. 

And judging by the width of Yeosang’s smile, he had needed that feeling, that bliss. 

They decide to drop Yeosang off at the Ravenclaw commons first. They hurry down the halls, encroaching on the wing that holds it. They’re there, so close to being out of danger, when they hear unanticipated footsteps. The painting is still too far for them to reach, and Wooyoung has almost accepted the fact that they would be caught again when Yeosang pushes them to the side, waving his wand and murmuring under his breath. Then, a prefect comes around the corner, eyes catching on him.

“Yeosang,” he says, his surprise evident in his voice. But Yeosang doesn’t panic, keeps a level expression. It’s like Wooyoung and San aren’t even there, and to this guy, they probably aren’t. Wooyoung doesn’t like the idea of Yeosang taking the fall for them, though, and he’s a few seconds away from speaking up when Yeosang clears his throat. 

“Sun-woo,” he says, voice even, dipping his head respectfully. “I thought I heard a sound out here,” he continues.

The boy tilts his head. “I didn’t hear anything, but I can check it out for you. Go back to bed, Yeosang. Or homework, whatever.” Sunwoo passes by Yeosang, patting a hand on his shoulder before nearly brushing by Wooyoung. He flattens himself against the wall, steadies his breathing. The Prefect disappears around the corner, and they breathe out a sigh of relief. Yeosang reverses the charm, his previous serene expression breaking down to reveal his anxiety. 

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. Wooyoung grins. “Did we scare you off, then?”

Yeosang snaps his head around, eyes sharp. “It’d take a lot more than that.”

Wooyoung hums as the door to the Ravenclaw common room opens at Yeosang’s whispered words. “Thank you,” Yeosang finally says, eyes wide. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, too?”

“Yeah,” San says. The fondness bleeds into his voice, but Wooyoung can’t even berate him for it later. The door closes, and they’re once again left out in the hall to stare at each other. They slowly walk back to their own dorm, steps heavy.

And as they fall asleep, San turns to face him. “He’s... “ 

He doesn’t finish the thought, but Wooyoung understands all the same. Yeosang is not like anyone they’ve ever known.

…

Yeosang’s transition into their everyday lives is nearly seamless.

The next morning, their eyes meet from across the dining hall. Yeosang smiles, secretively and just for them. Wooyoung’s heart clenches a bit. Yeosang gives a little wave, his mouth chewing around some food in a pout. It feels strangely private.

From that point on, it seems like they see Yeosang _everywhere_. Wooyoung and San have always come as a package deal, so having another person with them felt… strange. Not an unwelcome feeling. It wasn’t like anything was missing before, but now they felt _complete._

That night, Yeosang comes up to them at dinner. His friends are staring at his back in surprise again, but it seems like he doesn’t even feel the stares boring into him. Wooyoung and San are sitting at the end of the Slytherin table, closest to the door, nearly alone. They sat like this often; it had always been them together, isolated from the rest of the world. 

Wooyoung glances up in surprise when hands gently slam down beside his plate, jostling it a little. Yeosang looks down at them, ears slightly red and lips jutting out. “Hey,” he says. “Can I sit here, for a bit?” 

“Sure,” San answers when Wooyoung can’t find the words. Yeosang wordlessly sits beside San, hands anxiously twisting around in his lap, nearly falling off the edge of the bench. “Did you want to talk about something?” Wooyoung carefully questions. Yeosang jolts. 

“No,” he shakes his head slowly, “I honestly didn’t really have a reason for coming over here. I can leave.”

San makes an affronted noise, wrapping an arm around Yeosang’s shoulders. “We don’t mind. Here,” he holds up a slice of bread from his plate. “Want some?” 

“Sure,” Yeosang smiles, a small, shy thing. Wooyoung can’t help his own grin at the sight of San aggressively shoving his food at Yeosang, who politely declines until he can no longer resist the other boy’s insistence. San attempts to feed Yeosang, who flushes and insists he can do it himself. Wooyoung watches silently with his chin in his palms, smiling wide. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. It should be bitter; green jealousy crawling through the pit of his stomach. Instead, he feels warm. 

Yeosang stays for a few minutes, quietly listening to them talk and hesitantly interjecting into their conversation every once in a while. It’s nice, and Wooyoung doesn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. 

(No, he doesn’t mind it much at all, he decides.)

The other boy returns to his own table a few moments later, waving them away with a promise of tomorrow. Because that’s just a thing they do now, apparently - seek each other out every day and just talk. Yeosang joins them late at night, even if there is no trouble to be had. They sit together on the balcony of the astronomy tower, looking out over the campus. They run through the halls in the darkness; laughs echo through the corridors, only for them to hear. They lounge around in the Room of Requirement together; Wooyoung and San watching as Yeosang eagerly looks through the books lying around the room, eyes alight as he flips through the pages. 

But it doesn’t end at night - Yeosang will often interrupt their meals, a welcome intrusion, sharing pieces of his day, sharing his thoughts. They speak in halls, they see each other between classes. It’s strange, how an outsider becomes a friend, how a previous stranger becomes one of them. Wooyoung and San have never experienced it, until now - no one has even attempted to bridge the gap between them and the rest of the school. For them, the world had always been separated into two halves; us and _them._

Yeosang is not like anyone they’ve ever known. 

Wooyoung realizes it on one particularly sunny afternoon, as they sit outside on a makeshift picnic blanket. The white winter sun glares off the lake and into Wooyoung’s eyes, but he can’t get too annoyed; he’s simply grateful for the rare warm day in winter. They lie in a small semi-circle on the blanket, facing the lake as they lean back, tension falling from their bodies. Wooyoung’s hand is absentmindedly running through San’s hair as they stare at the clouds, trying to put names to the shapes they find in the sky.

Yeosang falls asleep, eventually, his cheek squished against the makeshift picnic blanket. Wooyoung longs to take a picture, to document the moment, even after he wakes up, hair ruffled and eyes pulled by sleep. San smiles softly at the sight, a mirror of Wooyoung’s own gentle grin. 

Not even a few weeks had passed since that first night in the Ravenclaw common room, and yet - and yet, Wooyoung already feels the creeping fondness directed towards the boy sleeping beside them. San hadn’t been coy about his affections from the beginning, and it should have been irritating. It should have brought Wooyoung to bitter, ugly jealousy; instead, the very same emotions sprout forth from his chest, blooming in a dry winter. 

San looks back at him as Wooyoung’s hands continue to stroke through his hair, expression serene. There’s no need for words, and besides, they don’t want to wake Yeosang. They let him sleep for a few hours, until the sun begins to set in the sky and they have to leave. It’s a lazy afternoon, the grounds silent from an absence of students. A good majority had left for winter break earlier that day. Wooyoung stays for his own reasons; he never asks why San does. He thinks he knows. 

Yeosang, surprisingly, confessed he was staying over the break a few days before. Wooyoung remembers the surprise like it’s still fresh, but he doesn’t question it. Everyone who stays over the holidays has their own reasons. 

But with his friends gone, Yeosang has no one but them. Maybe before, Wooyoung would have been exasperated with the presence of someone else besides San. Now, he welcomes Yeosang, anticipates his smiles and laughter and dry sarcasm that he can rarely pick up on. 

With the grounds basically abandoned, the three of them have free reign. The days are long, but never boring. They play around on the quidditch field, they explore various hidden hallways within the castle. Yeosang begins to sit with them at all meals, to lounge around in the Slytherin common room with them in front of the fire, comfortable in the fact that nearly no one would find them. 

It’s on a night like this, late, their eyes weighed down with sleep, where their conversation turns. Yeosang flicks his eyes back to them in surprise from where he’s spread out across the loveseat, fingers stroking the leather armrests. 

They’re a little intoxicated, if Wooyoung’s being honest. Being a wizard didn’t stop him from wanting to bring alcohol from home, and he had been doing just that consistently for the past two years. Yeosang’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink under the influence, he notes. 

“What?” Yeosang says, words hazy. Wooyoung brings himself back to the Slytherin common room. “Repeat that,” San insists urgently. It’s not like him to sound so… scared. Especially when drunk. Wooyoung blinks once, twice, trying to figure out the situation. Truthfully, he had been zoning out for the better half of five minutes, eyes stuck on the fire. 

“Oh,” Yeosang giggles. “Yeah, everyone knows your dating. That part, right?” 

San makes a distressed noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Yeosang tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. “What I said.”

Woooyoung and San turn to each other, twin confused stares on their faces. “We’re not dating.”

“You hold hands while walking to classes together,” Yeosang deadpans incredulously. “You guys don’t have to be worried ‘bout me knowing, I promise. I don’t care.”

“But we’re not…” San trails off.

Yeosang quirks an eyebrow. “I have seen you give him a kiss on the cheek before sending him off for class.”

Wooyoung gapes, eyes wide. Did the whole school really think they were dating? San tugs on his shoulder insistently, until he’s turning his head to face him. “Woo,” he breathes out, so close, “maybe we are dating.”

He makes a panicked noise in the back of his throat, unsure of what to do. San would find out about his feelings, if he said anything. Then it would really be over. 

“Oh my god,” Yeosang says. “You guys really didn’t know?”

He takes one look at their expressions and jerks to his feet unsteadily. Yeosang’s wearing a stricken expression, all of a sudden, like it’s painful for him to be there. “I’ll… let you guys talk. See you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” San calls out, but Yeosang is already halfway out the door. He doesn’t even look back, just leaps out into the corridor in a hurry, and then he’s gone. Wooyoung looks back at San, whose eyes are wide with emotions akin to panic. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but San beats him to it. 

“There’s no point in hiding it, anymore,” he murmurs, and Wooyoung’s heart turns to ice. This whole time, San had known how he had felt and hadn’t said anything. He had probably suffered with the knowledge of Wooyoung’s emotions; hadn’t known how to let him down. Wooyoung swallows hard. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Why are you sorry?” San asks, voice low. Their previous drunken state seems to have escaped both of them, their faces grim. “I didn’t hide it well enough,” he replies. 

“What?” San says, confusion evident. Wooyoung frowns and looks at him. There’s no point in being coy anymore. They both knew how he felt. “I like you,” he says simply. “I have for a while, now. And I think you know that. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, or…” Wooyoung trails off listlessly. 

But San shakes his head violently, rising to his feet to face Wooyoung head on. “No,” he whispers. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. The opposite, actually.” He grabs Wooyoung’s hands, who makes a strangled noise under his breath in response. “What does that mean?” He whispers, heart heavy.

“I like you too,” San breathes out, like a weight has been lifted, “more than you could know.”

Wooyoung finally meets his eyes. “You can’t just - say that,” he complains, but there’s a smile on his face. San is grinning too, his dimples popping out, and more than ever, Wooyoung wants to kiss him. So he places his hand on his cheek, eyes asking a silent question. San gasps a little, a small exhale of air, and nods. 

But it’s not enough. Wooyoung leans in. “Can I kiss you?” He whispers, their noses nearly brushing. “Yes,” San says, desperation leaking into his shaky voice. He presses their lips together hesitantly, the angle a bit awkward, their noses getting in the way. It’s perfect, and everything fourth year Wooyoung would have wanted, despite the hesitancy. 

They draw back, after a few quiet moments, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the otherwise silent common room. They’re not afraid of being caught; only a few other Slytherin students had stayed during the holiday, and they had all gone to bed long ago. Their fingers are still interlocked, San’s hands warm against his own. They sit on the couch together, facing the fire, and Wooyoung truly looks at San. The freckles scattered across his neck, the crinkles in his cheeks as he smiles back at him - they had always been his, but now, Wooyoung had them all to himself in a completely new, alien way. 

Even as he kisses San’s cheek, as they sit together, arms intertwined, Wooyoung is reminded of something _important_. Like something is missing, even as he picks up all the pieces. 

Distantly, something in his mind screams, _Yeosang should be here too._

…

The next day, Yeosang takes one look at the way they walk up, arms around each other, and quirks an eyebrow.

“Well,” he says, “you two are certainly more touchy than usual. Figured it out?”

“Finally,” San smiles. “It’s all thanks to you, Sangie.” He ruffles Yeosang’s hair a bit, who pushes him away indignantly. They’re sitting in their usual meeting place on the astronomy tower, close to the railing overlooking the school. Yeosang seems quieter than usual today, Wooyoung notes. He stares below, wind sweeping his hair away from his face. He seems… melancholy, a little distant, but they don’t push it too much. Wooyoung can’t push down his concern, however. They sit like that for a bit, soaking in the sight, before they collectively decide to walk down to the lake. 

They're walking along the bank, feet brushing the grass, when Wooyoung can’t resist anymore. He pulls San in, his grin big, and kisses the top of his head. His joy is still overflowing; he can’t believe that he can just do that whenever he wants. And maybe he already did, before, but it has a whole new meaning now, bringing out a pretty flush on San’s cheeks and a shy smile to his lips. 

But he looks back at Yeosang, who’s staring at them silently, eyes dark with something he can’t recognize, and pulls back. The other boy drops his head, not meeting his gaze. “I have to go,” he says curtly, and San turns back in poorly concealed surprise. Wooyoung narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“I have to clean, before Seonghwa gets back,” Yeosang replies, face once again expressionless. It makes Wooyoung want to shake him, to get a reaction. It’s like they’re back to square one - like it’s the first night, and Yeosang is indifferent and uncaring. Wooyoung bites his lip. “Okay,” San says, an uneasy smile on his face. “See you later.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Yeosang says, and then he’s walking back towards the castle, a muted figure in the distance. Wooyoung and San meet each other’s stares, confusion evident in their drawn expressions. They walk back as well, eventually, hands clenched tightly together. 

They do not see Yeosang later.

…

It’s a hazy night; the rest of the students are due to return tomorrow. 

They had planned to spend it with Yeosang, but he had given them another excuse, as he had been doing consistently for the past few days. Wooyoung doesn’t know what they did, but it must have been pretty bad for Yeosang to completely stop seeking them out. It felt wrong for Yeosang to not be by their side nearly every moment of the day, as they had become so accustomed to. 

Wooyoung and San drink the liquor he brought alone, spread out across Wooyoung’s canopy bed. The other students have already fallen into sleep, so they whisper quietly, moonlight creeping over them through the window. “Hey,” San says after a period of extended silence. He turns to him slowly, body warm from the alcohol.

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise not to be mad?” 

Wooyoung considers it for a moment. “Depends. I can’t stay mad at you for long, anyways, you know that.” San smiles fondly, but it’s wiped away by his anxiety after a second. “Okay,” he whispers. “Just keep that in mind.”

Wooyoung sits up on his elbow, eyes distractedly tracing the slope of San’s nose. “Go on.”

“I love you,” he says, but pauses. This is no secret; Wooyoung nods a silent confirmation, an acknowledgement. “But I... I’m-” San cuts off again. “I don’t know how to say it. It’s not like I feel anything less for you, but I also think I… I like Yeosang, too.” 

The breath is stolen from his lungs. It’s silent, for a moment, as he processes this. San waits patiently, perhaps a bit afraid of what he will think, lips wobbling. Wooyoung clears his throat quietly. “Me too,” he confesses. San jolts a bit, eyes meeting him. “So you-”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung murmurs. “I like Yeosang.” It feels nice to say out loud. Easy. 

“We both like Yeosang,” San sighs. “So I was really stressed about that for no reason. Okay.”

“It’s not my fault you were worried about it,” Wooyoung protests, but he pulls San in closer. They tangle around each other, eyes growing heavy with sleep. He has half a mind to send San off to his own bed, but thinks better of it, burying his chin in the other boy’s hair. “Do you think we should tell him?” San asks after a few minutes, exhaustion clear in his voice, just a mere moment away from sleep. 

“If he decides to stop avoiding us,” Wooyoung replies. San snorts into the crook of his neck. It’s not the most attractive thing, but he finds himself laughing as well. He feels comforted, at peace, like something tumultuous within him had been resolved just by their talk. They didn’t know how Yeosang felt. They didn’t know how he would react if they told him.

Wooyoung didn’t know how they would confront Yeosang; but there in that moment, he felt as though it would all work out, in the end.

…

The other students arrive the next day.

Wooyoung and San don’t see Yeosang, who claims to be hanging out with his friends who had returned that day. They don’t question it too much, because it is a valid reason. Classes resume the day after, but they’re overshadowed by something of far greater importance: although they don’t see Yeosang once again, his Ravenclaw friend approaches them in the hall. He waves them over, eyes scanning around to see if anyone is watching. 

“Hi,” he begins when Wooyoung and San are close enough, “I’m-”

“Seonghwa,” San smiles, offering out a hand. Seonghwa takes it, visibly surprised, and San enthusiastically shakes it. Wooyoung waits beside him. “So, why’d you call us over here?” He asks. 

“Well,” he whispers, lowering his voice. “I kinda need to talk about something.”

San looks at the spot next to Seonghwa on the windowsill. “Can we sit?”

“Sure.”

So they sit beside Seonghwa, who shifts over to make room for the two of them. When they’ve settled in, Wooyoung fixes Seonghwa with a stare. “This is about Yeosang, right?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa says, expression morose. “I wouldn’t normally do this kind of thing, but if I let it keep going on like this…” 

“What do you mean?” San asks, eyes wide. Seonghwa ignores the question, instead choosing to stare them down intently. “How do you guys feel about Yeosang? Is this just… a way to pass time, to you guys, or is it… more?”

Wooyoung gulps, perhaps a bit too loudly. Seonghwa pins him down with his eyes, and he’s trapped like a butterfly in a glass case. He and San look at each other, caught out. They search each other’s eyes, coming to a silent agreement with a nod. San grabs his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before turning back to Seonghwa. “I feel like we can trust you,” San whispers. “Can we?”

Seonghwa nods. “When it comes to Yeosang, I’m always trustworthy.” And Wooyoung believes it, surprisingly. He clears his throat, snapping Seonghwa’s attention to him. “San and I… feel more than friendship towards Yeosang, to say the least. We didn’t figure out until recently, but… then he stopped talking to us, so I thought maybe…” Seonghwa hums, fingers tapping against the windowsill. 

“I’m glad,” he says. “I didn’t really like Yeosang hanging out with you guys at first, to be honest. It’s nothing personal, but I’m sure you both know what everyone thinks of you. But… you guys seem to really care about him, and I appreciate that. He’s seemed… happier, since you guys started hanging out. So, I’ll give you some advice.”

He pauses, and San and Wooyoung lean in closely, completely fixated on his words, if not a little puzzled by the meaning. Seonghwa gives them a small smile. “You two should tell him that. You’ll like the outcome.”

They stare for a few seconds. “Wait,” Wooyoung says, “does that mean he…”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa replies, smiling a little wider, “does it? I guess you’ll have to find out.”

“Okay,” San smiles back. “Thank you, Seonghwa.” 

They leave a few minutes later, hearts alight with hope. Seonghwa shouts at the backs of their heads as they hurry down the halls in search of Yeosang. Wooyoung feels like there’s no longer time to be wasted, anxious to find the other boy. 

“I didn’t tell you guys anything, okay?” Seonghwa says.

Wooyoung and San smile at each other, then zip their fingers across their lips in a silent promise. And then they were off to search through the halls, arms linked.

…

Yeosang was proving harder to find than they originally thought.

They’ve searched almost every accessible place in the castle, but he’s nowhere to be found. San even asks a few ghosts floating overhead if they have seen him. It seems like Yeosang has dropped off the face of the earth, but Wooyoung has one last idea. He pulls San along behind him, climbing up the numerous flights of stairs scattered across the school. 

Wooyoung gasps for air once they arrive at the top of the astronomy tower, placing his hands on his knees. San rubs at his back gently, in far better shape than he. They stop for only a moment, however, and Wooyoung stands up straight, eyes searching. Eyes stare back at him, wide with barely concealed emotion. “Yeosang,” he says, and the other boy shifts slightly, uncomfortably. 

San and Wooyoung approach slowly, like he’s a frightened animal. Yeosang doesn’t run, doesn’t hide, just watches them come closer with calculating eyes. He’s sitting close to the rail, hands clenched around one of the rungs, his legs folded together. “Hi,” he replies, barely a whisper. 

They sit beside him, Wooyoung’s knees to his chest. “We missed you,” San divulges, and Yeosang’s expression crumbles. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice low. 

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung insists. “We just… we have something to tell you, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” Yeosang says again, bringing his hands to his face. San gapes. “Why are you sorry?”

“I made it weird.” 

“No,” Wooyoung states firmly, bringing his hands forward to peel Yeosang’s hands back from his face. “Yeosang, we…”

San clears his throat, his face determined as he takes Yeosang’s other hand. “We like you, Sangie.” 

Yeosang stares for a few seconds, lips parted in surprise. After a moment, a small, “what?” San smiles, a little afraid, but determined. “Wooyoung and I both like you. I’m sorry if this makes it worse, but we thought you should know.” 

“I…” Yeosang trails off, dumbfounded. “I thought…” 

He shakes his head at himself, sitting up straight and facing them head on. “I’ve liked both of you for a while, now. I just didn’t think it was possible for me… I mean, I thought you guys were dating this whole time,” Yeosang cuts himself with a watery laugh, eyes wet. Wooyoung frowns, wrapping an arm around the other boy and dragging him in. San joins in after a second, until they’re both wrapped around Yeosang tightly.

“Well,” San whispers, “we like you too. So you don’t have to worry about that anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” Yeosang replies, voice uneven. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. Wooyoung and San pull back after a few quiet moments, shooting each other twin glances. They communicate silently for a few seconds before turning back to Yeosang, who’s patiently waiting, already used to their strange telepathy. San licks at his bottom lip nervously.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, perhaps a little too urgent. But Yeosang smiles shyly, nodding his head. “Yeah,” he replies, “but I’ve… uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“Aw,” Wooyoung coos at the same time San says, “that’s okay.” 

San leans in slowly, a hand sneaking up to Yeosang’s chin to tilt his head up. “You’re really pretty,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for only the three of them to hear. “How has no one kissed you yet?” 

“Personality scared them away, I guess,” Yeosang smirks, but it’s cut off by San gently kissing him, carefully holding him like he might break. They stay like that for a few moments, Wooyoung’s eyes flitting over the way their lips move together. And he’s struck with a sudden feeling of _right_ , as they fit together again and again. 

Maybe they’re moving too fast, considering it’s Yeosang’s first kiss, but Wooyoung can’t blame San - they have both wanted this for longer than they could have ever known. 

Yeosang pulls away, cheeks pink, and fixes Wooyoung with a meaningful stare. His lips are already a little swollen, kissed red, but he leans in towards Wooyoung, eyes screwed shut. Wooyoung meets him halfway, placing a hand on Yeosang’s waist. The first contact between their lips is warm; there are no fireworks, but there’s an overwhelming feeling of _completion._

Yeosang’s lips are slightly chapped, bitten down, but it’s perfect, as Wooyoung brings him in even closer, until they’re pressed against each other. He has to remind himself to not go too far, too fast.

But San slides in behind Yeosang, fingers already loosening his own tie, and Wooyoung realizes that maybe, fast is just the right pace for them.

…

Later, at dinner, he watches as Yeosang’s friends gape at him. His neck is adorned by a green and silver tie, an “accident”, as San had called it, his own neck blue and silver. Wooyoung watches fondly as Yeosang adjusts the tie, cheeks red. But then the other boy is looking back at them, eyes soft, and Wooyoung can’t help but grin.

Silver and green has never looked better, especially when it’s worn by Yeosang.

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> and there it is, my first ateez fic! i only got into them a few weeks ago but they climbed up my ult list so fast i couldn't help it. please drop some kudos and comments, they're seriously my motivation! thank you for reading!
> 
> u can find me on twitter @yeosangflvr


End file.
